Spike and the Sandman
by The SleepWalker
Summary: Bebop/Sandman Faye leads Spike on a crazy trip through the land of dreaming. I've extended Chapter 3 a bit. R&R Please
1. The Author's Note

The Really Long Author's Note  
  
Ok, here goes… This is my very first true fanfic, (wipes away a tear) I'm so proud of it! I figured I ought to explain a few things before it starts though. See, at first I didn't know exactly where to publish this because there aren't any other Bebop/Sandman fics that I know of. Then it came to me, Cowboy Bebop supplies the characters, and Sandman is really the setting, so even if the Bebop fans didn't know about all of the Sandman stuff, they might still enjoy Spike bumbling around somewhere weird. Ok, now I'm going to lay down the Sandman so everybody understands. Morpheus, the Sandman, Dream and the King of Dreams are all the same guy, and he rules the Dreaming, the Dream Time, and ect. He more or less rules the place where everybody's dreams happen, and a lot of people live there too. They play the parts in people's dreams. He's pretty cold so has very few friends aside from Matthew and Gilbert who you'll meet later. Normally Sandman is considered horror, but today it's humor, so sit back and enjoy. If you really get confused about some stuff, go read some Sandman Fanfiction, or look it up on the Internet because there's a lot to explain and I'm sure everyone wants to get to the story.  
  
Good luck, I hope you enjoy, and I hope you understand, but mainly I hope you come out alive but changed. 


	2. She Sleeps

Spike and the Sandman  
  
By The SleepWalker  
  
The Bebop sped off toward Mars, ripping through one of the gates. It was late and very quite. Everyone had gone to bed after yet another shameful performance of the art of bounty hunting. Spike was still smarting from the loss and stayed up, smoking and keeping himself busy. This involved a marathon of martial arts movies and game after game of solitaire. The rest of the crew slept very soundly, except one.  
  
Faye tossed in her sleep and woke Ein, who wined and tried to wake her. She continued to sleep fitfully. The little dog became worried after he couldn't wake her up. He went and found Spike who was polishing the Sword Fish. He was whistling a jaunty tune and wiping it down with an old rag. "Oh, it's you." He groaned. Ein whimpered and led the way. "What's the problem?"  
  
Faye began to toss more violently. She nearly fell out of bed, but Spike righted her. He shook her to wake her up, but she didn't get up. "Uh oh."  
  
"What is wrong with Faye-Faye?" asked Ed, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"If she's faking…" said an annoyed and sleepy Jet, leaving the threat floating on the air.  
  
"I don't think she's faking Jet." Said Spike, "I don't think she's sick either. I think she's having a nightmare."  
  
"Nightmare?" asked Jet.  
  
"She's sleeping and I can't wake her up."  
  
"Is that such a bad thing?" asked Jet.  
  
"Jet!" exclaimed Ed, "That is not nice!"  
  
"I called the doc, he said he can't do anything, so I figured Old Man Bull might do the trick."  
  
"Old Man Bull?" asked Jet.  
  
"He hasn't steered me wrong yet."  
  
The little hole in the wall that Old Man Bull worked out of was filled with funny smelling smoke and odd trinkets as it always was, and the old medicine man sat, sifting sand through his fingers. "The Swimming Bird must first take a journey into the heart of the Dream Time, and talk to the Dream King. He will tell you what has happened."  
  
"And how do I get to the heart of the Dream Time?" asked Spike, taking a drag on a peace pipe.  
  
"The Swimming Bird must fall into a deep sleep."  
  
"Is that it?"  
  
"Yes, for only the Swimming Bird can enter the true Dream Time."  
  
Spike was confused, but what else could he do but go back to the Bebop and take a nap. He went out into the hanger where he knew he wouldn't be disturbed and slowly dozed off. 


	3. Enter the Dreaming

The Dreaming was a trippy place up close. Spike found himself sitting on a headstone in the middle of a large graveyard. How appropriate. There were two large, Victorian-gothic mansions overlooking the graves. Spike looked in all directions, but all he could see were graves; headstones as far as the eye could see. Spike was hungry he realized, and his stomach took over his logic. He began walking toward the houses. He cam to the first house and knocked on the door. "W-w-w-who is it?" mumbled a voice. "Is it suh- something nasty?"  
  
"Not that I know of," replied Spike, "I guess it would be a matter of opinion."  
  
"I'm, oh, uh, we're sorry, buh-but we don't need anymore nah-nasty things living here."  
  
"I don't want to live here, I just want to eat something."  
  
There was no answer, and the cowboy, being hungry and impatient, moved on. The next house yielded slightly better results. "What do you want?" demanded the tall, angry man who answered the door.  
  
"Something to eat?" offered Spike.  
  
"There's no food here, go away!" The man slammed the door in his face.  
  
"Well, do you know where I can find some?" called Spike through the door.  
  
"Look to the north, the heart of the dreaming." Ordered the muffled voice on the other side.  
  
"Yeah, thanks," mumbled Spike sarcastically. The graveyard wasn't nearly as big as it had been a few moments ago. As he looked around, Spike noticed a large castle in the distance and a mountain beyond it. On his other side was what looked like a vast, purple-gray ocean.  
  
Spike started walking toward the castle. He reached behind his ear for a cigarette and started when there wasn't one there. He patted his pockets and checked them all twice. The cowboy's eyes widened, he had no cigarettes! He was hungry, confused, and he needed a smoke more than ever! "Figures." He muttered. He stuck his hands in his pockets and continued to trudge toward the castle. Imagine, all this for Faye! Spike wondered what made him go; Faye was nothing but a pain in the ass. She took his smokes, used up all the hot water and was always getting in trouble. "So why am I doing this!" demanded Spike.  
  
"Because," said a calm, wise, male voice, "deep down inside, you know it's worth it."  
  
Spike whirled around, "Who said that?"  
  
"I did."  
  
"Where are you?" asked the cowboy, glancing around.  
  
"I am here." Replied the voice.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Hoom, I am all around you."  
  
"Fine," said Spike, giving up on his first question, "who are you?"  
  
Slowly, a man melted out of the scenery in front of the cowboy. He was large and heavy with graying hair and spectacles. He wore an old brown hat and a green sweater-vest with an ancient brown coat. "I am Fiddler's Green, but you may call me Gilbert."  
  
"Is that your first name or your last name?"  
  
"Precisely, young Spike."  
  
"How do you know my name?"  
  
"There are very few secrets in the land of dreaming." 


	4. The Snarr

There was something wrong with the forest, something evil about it. The darkness of it seemed to close in around them as they made their way through. Spike had a feeling someone else was there and found himself reaching for his gun. It was with his cigarettes, back with body. The absence of his gun and the lack of nicotine were putting the cowboy on edge. Nearby, a twig snapped. His muscles tightened and his senses sharpened as the adrenaline began pumping. Fight-or-flee screamed his primal instinct, fight-or-flee-fight-or-flee-fight-or-flee-FIGHT! Suddenly, down from the trees flew a horrible monster. It was covered in green ooze and matted fur and had the wings of a bat. It had the head of a man with the fangs of a snake. The thing screamed with the voice of angered furies and its very hide reeked of blood and death. Its claws were black, shiny and sharp as razors. "What the hell is that thing?" exclaimed Spike, jumping back.  
  
"It is a snarr, and a hungry one at that," answered Gilbert, waving his cane at it. The thing growled at the two travelers and licked its yellow, needle sharp teeth. "Shoo! Go away now!"  
  
The snarr refused to back down and it's blood-red eyes fixed on Spike hungrily, it's mouth accumulating disgusting white foam. It charged the cowboy without warning, but was deterred by a swift kick to the head. No longer interested in the cowboy, the monster decided to go after Gilbert instead. "Oh no you don't!" exclaimed Spike, tackling it, "We're not done yet!" He put it in a chokehold, cutting the oxygen off from its tiny brain. It struggled but slowly lost consciousness.  
  
"Is it dead?" asked the old man, poking the fallen beast with his cane.  
  
"No, but it'll wish it was, when it wakes up with the headache that's coming."  
  
The two continued on through the forest, which had suddenly become much less intimidating. "You told me you needed an audience with the Dream King," said Gilbert casually, "May I be permitted to ask why?"  
  
"My friend is sick or in a coma or something like that. I have to talk to the Dream King about it."  
  
"Asking favors of the Dream King is not the wisest of decisions."  
  
"It's not like I have a choice, Gilbert, Old Man Bull told me what I have to do."  
  
Soon they were out of the forest and the castle of the Dream King loomed in the distance. It was made of white marble and towers soared up from it. The sun shined down on it and it was truly picturesque, sitting up on a grassy hill. Around the gate roosted its three guards, a gryphon, a wyvern, and a hippogriff. "Halt," ordered the hippogriff, "Who goes there?"  
  
"It is I, Fiddler's Green and the bounty hunter, Spike Spiegel.  
  
"You are a friend and always welcome here, and the bounty hunter is expected by the Master."  
  
"Uh, thanks, I think." Said the cowboy, hesitant to continue.  
  
Gilbert forged on as he always did. "Come along young Spike," he said cheerfully, "we have been granted entrance!" 


	5. Goodbyes

The entrance to the castle was as grand as the outside had been. Tapestries hung from the walls and there were a thousand doors lining the stone hall. "Follow me young Spike, and don't stray from the path or else you maybe become lost forever."  
  
"Wha?"  
  
"There is raw dream stuff all around us. Raw dream stuff is very dangerous, even to those who were created from it. The castle is heavily saturated with it and unsafe for people who don't know their way around."  
  
"Great, wonderful! Isn't there anything safe around here?!"  
  
"Things are never as they seem to be." Replied Gilbert patiently.  
  
The two adventurers walked to the end of the stone hall. A great wooden door stood there and somehow Spike knew it was the door to the Dream King's throne room. He found that, for one of the few times in his life, he was nervous. "What am I supposed to say to him?"  
  
"Be polite," instructed the old man, "Don't threaten or beg. He will let you have your say, but only briefly so use it wisely. You will be alright young Spike, I wish you luck."  
  
"You're not coming?" asked the cowboy.  
  
"This business is between you and him, I have none being there. Good bye young Spike, I have enjoyed our adventure together."  
  
"Good bye Gilbert," returned Spike, giving him a casual salute and a smile. And with that, he opened the door. 


	6. Give Him the Bird

The throne room of the Dream King was titanic and white. Stained glass windows reflected the missing color into shards on the floor. The ceiling went up at least five stories and at the end of the room and up a magnificent staircase was the throne. Upon it sat a man who was as pale as the walls around him. His hair was black and messy, sticking out at all angles. The Dream King's eyes reminded the cowboy of space, void of everything, save two cold stars. He was too thin and seemed to young, but there was a wise air to him. "Greetings Spike Spiegel." The Dream King's voice wasn't a voice, and yet Spike could hear it. He bowed somewhat awkwardly, not used to the motion. "What is it that you seek from me?" "My friend, she won't wake up. Old Man Bull sent me here to see you about her." "Ah, the green-eyed woman who dreams of times long since passed." "Yeah, that's her. What's wrong with her?" "It seems that the thread that should have led her mind to her body has snagged." Explained the Dream King. "That is what is keeping her from awakening." "What exactly does that mean?" "She has become lost in dreams." "Where is she?" "She is on a skerry in the bay of Nightmare." "How do I get there?" "Because you have helped Fiddler's Green, I am grateful. I shall lend you a guide, the Raven Matthew." Suddenly, a large, black bird sat upon the King's shoulder. "Hia Boss." It said. Spike jumped, "It talked!" "Yeah, I do that," ruffled Matthew, "got a problem?" "Matthew will lead you to where you need to go." The raven seemed to flinch. "Boss, I don't know, you sure you can't just tell him where to go? Eve's been wanting to talk, and you know how she gets about that sorta stuff, and I don't want to keep her waiting." "The Lady Eve will understand Matthew, your talk will have to wait." Said the Dream King sternly, "I bid you a safe journey." Having been dismissed, the two left the throne room and the castle. He wanted to go home. "So," said the raven, trying to make conversation, "what are you here for?" "Helping a friend." Came the short reply. "Yeah? I used to have friends, back when I was alive anyway. Guess they were more like drinking buddies though." Matthew confessed, "What sort of a friend is it?" "I don't know." Admitted the cowboy, "She dives me nuts most of the time and she just causes me trouble." "Is she hot?" "No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know!" exclaimed Spike, somewhat disgusted, "Don't ask me that!" "Oh, one of those. I've had a few of those." "She is not one of those, makes me sick even thinking about her that way." "Yeah, sure, just keep telling yourself that, maybe, some day, it'll come true." The cowboy fell silent. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was why he'd come to get her. He could have let her sleep and let Jet dump her off into space, but instead he was on an adventure to rescue her from her worst nightmares. She wasn't really that bad, when she was in a good mood anyway, and she could be somewhat charming when she wanted to be. No. No, this was Faye! He couldn't like Faye; she was Faye! "Ah, what do you know, bird?" "I know a lot actually." "Obviously nothing about me though." "Well, maybe not, but you have to admit, I sounded good for a while." Spike rolled his eyes and kept walking. Stupid bird. What did he know, he ate road kill and shat on cars. Stupid bird. They traveled in silence, all the way to the graveyard. "A skerry's an island." Commented Spike. "Yes, you're a quick one, aren't you?" "How are we going to get there?" "I'll fly and you'll. you'll, um, uh." "Now who's the quick one?" Smirked Spike. "Maybe you could swim." Offered Matthew. "I'm not swimming." "So how are you going to get there?" "I don't know, but I'm not swimming." Spike glanced around. "Nothing here really floats, except." he saw the mansions, looming over the cemetery, "wood. Wood floats." 


	7. Skerryward

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" demanded the tall, angry man. "I'm taking your door," grunted Spike, pulling it off its hinges, "and turning it into a boat." "How dare you deface my house?! I'll take this straight to Lord Morpheus!" "You can take this straight up your ass for all I care," said the cowboy, balancing the door on his head and holding it there, "I'm a man on a mission." The man's eyes grew red and angry and his nails long and sharp. Matthew flapped his wings nervously. "Now you've done it, you've pissed off Cain!" "Cain?" The man leaped at Spike like an animal, bellowing with rage. Spike kicked him away casually, "What kind of a name is Cain?" "A really old one." Cain got up off of the ground and wiped the blood from his nose. He attacked again in the same way and received yet another sharp kick. He ran at Spike, who, tired of this game, was turning to leave, and was smacked in the head by the door. The biblical figure fell to the ground stunned and crawled off in a terrible mood, also sick of the fight. The door floated beautifully on the thick, sloshy waters of Nightmare. Spike was able to sit in the middle of it and not get wet at all. He sat cross-legged on top of the stolen door as the current pulled it toward the skerries. "What's on the skerries?" asked the cowboy. "All sorts of stuff.just about anything." "Wonderful, more things to attack me while I'm not looking." "Well, maybe you should start looking around more." "Yeah, thanks, great advice." Mumbled Spike. His stomach rumbled and he wanted a cigarette so bad he could taste it. "You wouldn't have a smoke I could have, would you?" he asked in desperation. Matthew ruffled his feathers. "Do I look like I carry cigarettes around with me?" "No, but I could really use one right about now." "Can't help you there, sorry." "You're sorry." Nothing was really going well that day. All Spike wanted was to get Faye and get out so he could eat and smoke a butt. He was so hungry he could eat a year's worth of Jet's bell peppers and beef, with or without the beef. "How many skerries are there?" "About a hundred." "A hundred!" "Probably more." Said Matthew, shrugging as much as a raven was able. "Probably more?! I could be looking forever!" "Seems that way." "But I'm hungry now!" Growled Spike. "There's nothing I can do about it, just hope it's one of the first ones we come to." "You better hope it's one of the first ones we come to because I'm not above having raven for breakfast." Said the cowboy under his breath. He started paddling toward the nearest skerry. 


End file.
